She’s got the eye of a cutting edge architect she does…
Love
An anthill, when left to grow in peace.
StandardA 400 year old banyan tree that looks like a mini forest.
StandardI was missing our puppies while on vacation…
StandardMorning brain activity with mood music.
StandardFlow state detail work with coloring to boot (check out them spaceships).
And you should see that boy do a perfect hand stand now…
My 7 year old daughter is already a better comic artist than I ever could be…
StandardShe’s already got a flow state passion going (apart from cartwheels, dancing, and those monkey bars she handles like a boss).
Page 2 below…
Just look at those lines…
StandardBarely 9 months ago he was covering the sheet in chicken scratches.
Humans are metal.
Afternoon freestyle art time.
StandardEgo and Anger – my two worst addictions.
StandardNo experience – now lifelong and ongoing – has brought forth my numerous shortcomings with as much brutal honesty as parenting has
My dumb rage and my mindless id.
How do I get rid of my addictions to ego and anger?
These very peculiar conditions of our species?
I am so done with them.
I don’t want to be a raging egomaniac any more.
(Fact is, I’m finally just getting smart enough to realize that I don’t know shit.)
Off late, on my daily walks with my bestie Molly, I’ve been reflecting on the various ways in which I might have been a piece of shit to people in the past. Especially my loved ones.
I know there have been many moments in the past when I was an asshole, a bully, or just…you know, a dick.
Age brings wisdom.
Sadly wisdom is not a time machine.
Now, like any other human, I too occasionally wallow in the different ways I might have been wronged in my life.
But I don’t really focus as much on the ways I have wronged others now, do I? I’m realizing that doing this intentionally can be a helpful exercise in humility. My acid tongue and fuck-you personality feel embarrassing now in real time.
Realizing that I can be a bit of a dick sometimes helps in tempering that raging id.
Embers of the past will always burn.
StandardTraumas of a bygone era nurture it.
Is this the irony of resiliency?